Judge Dee At Work

by Robert Van Gulik

  Yuan Kai’s face had turned pale. But he had his voice well under control when he asked sharply: ‘I suppose Your Honour has good grounds for proffering such grave accusations?’

  ‘I have. Mrs Meng stated that they never received visitors at night. She also stated that the frogs in the lotus pond never croak during the day. Yet you remarked on the noise they make-sometimes. That suggested that you had been there at night. Further, Meng had been drinking wine with his murderer, who left his own cup on the table, but took away Meng’s special cup. That, together with Meng’s calm face, told me that he had been drugged before he was killed, and that the murderer had taken his victim’s cup away with him because he feared that it would still smell after the drug, even if he washed it there in the pond. Now the accomplice of the criminal who organized the attack on the treasury messenger was also drugged before he was killed. This suggested that both crimes were committed by one and the same person. It made me suspect you, because as a pharmacist you know all about drugs, and because you had the opportunity to kill Meng Lan after you had left the Willow Quarter. I also remembered that we hadn’t done too well on our duck-hunt this morning-we caught nothing. Although an expert hunter like you led our party. You were in bad form, because you had quite a strenuous night behind you. But by teaching me the method of duck-hunting with a decoy, you suggested to me a simple means for verifying my suspicions. Tonight I used the beggars as a decoy, and I caught you.’

  ‘And my motive?’ Yuan Kai asked slowly.

  ‘Some facts that are no concern of yours made me discover that Mrs Meng had been expecting her brother Shih Ming to visit her secretly at night, and that proved that she knew that he had committed some crime. When Shih Ming visited his sister and his brother-in-law last week, and when they refused to give him money, he became angry and boasted that you had enlisted his help in an affair that would bring in a lot of money. Meng and his wife knew that Shih Ming was no good, so when they heard about the attack on the treasury messenger, and when Shih Ming didn’t show up, they concluded it must be the affair Shih Ming had alluded to. Meng Lan was an honest man, and he taxed you with the robbery-there was your motive. Mrs Meng wanted to shield her brother, but when presently she learns that it was you who murdered her husband, and also her brother, she’ll speak, and her testimony will conclude the case against you, Yuan Kai.’

  The pharmacist looked down; he was breathing heavily. Judge Dee went on, ‘I shall apologize to Mrs Meng. The unfortunate profession she exercised hasn’t affected her staunch character. She was genuinely fond of her husband, and although she knew that her brother was a good-for-nothing, she was prepared to be flogged in the tribunal for contempt of court, rather than give him away. Well, she’ll soon be a rich woman, for half of your property shall be assigned to her, as blood-money for her husband’s murder. And doubtless Wen Shou-fang will in due time ask her to marry him, for he is still deeply in love with her. As to you, Yuan Kai, you are a foul murderer, and your head will fall on the execution ground.’

  Suddenly Yuan looked up. He said in a toneless voice, ‘It was that accursed frog that did for me! I killed the creature, and kicked it into the pond. That set the other frogs going.’ Then he added bitterly: ‘And, fool that I was, I said frogs can’t talk!’

  ‘They can,’ Judge Dee said soberly. ‘And they did.’

  5 The Two Beggars

  This story explains why Judge. Dee was late for his family dinner on the Feast of Lanterns. This feast is the concluding phase of the protracted New Year’s celebrations; in the evening an intimate family dinner is held, and the ladies of the household consult the oracle on what the New Year has in store for them. The scene of this story is laid in Poo-yang, well-known to readers of the novel The Chinese Bell Murders. Chapter IX of that book mentions Magistrate Lo, Judge Dee’s volatile colleague in the neighbouring district of Chin-hwa, who now figures in this tale about the sad fate that befell two beggars.

  When the last visitor had left, Judge Dee leaned back in his chair with a sigh of relief. With tired eyes he looked out over his back garden where in the gathering dusk his three small sons were playing among the shrubbery. They were suspending lighted lanterns on the branches, painted with the images of the Eight Genii.

  It was the fifteenth day of the first month, the Feast of Lanterns. People were hanging gaily painted lanterns of all shapes and sizes in and outside their houses, transforming the entire city into a riot of garish colours. From the other side of the garden wall the judge heard the laughter of people strolling in the park.

  All through the afternoon the notables of Poo-yang, the prosperous district where Judge Dee had now been serving one year as magistrate, had been coming to his residence at the back of the tribunal compound to offer him their congratulations on this auspicious day. He pushed his winged judge’s cap back from his forehead and passed his hand over his face. He was not accustomed to drinking so much wine in the daytime; he felt slightly sick. Leaning forward, he took a large white rose from the bowl on the tea-table, for its scent is supposed to counteract the effects of alcohol. Inhaling deeply the flower’s fresh fragrance, the judge reflected that his last visitor, Ling, the master of the goldsmiths’ guild, had really overstayed his welcome, had seemed glued to his chair. And Judge Dee had to change and refresh himself before going to his women’s quarters, where his three wives were now supervising the preparations for the festive family dinner.

  Excited children’s voices rang out from the garden. The judge looked round and saw that his two eldest boys were struggling to get hold of a large coloured lantern.

  ‘Better come inside now and have your bath!’ Judge Dee called out over to them.

  ‘Ah-kuei wants that nice lantern made by Big Sister and me all for himself!’ his eldest son shouted indignantly.

  The judge was going to repeat his command, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the door in the back of the hall open. Sergeant Hoong, his confidential adviser, came shuffling inside. Noticing how wan and tired the old man looked, Judge Dee said quickly, ‘Take a seat and have a cup of tea, Hoong! I am sorry I had to leave all the routine business of the tribunal to you today. I had to go over to the chancery and do some work after my guests had left, but Master Ling was more talkative than ever. He took his leave only a few moments ago.’

  ‘There was nothing of special importance, Your Honour,’ Sergeant Hoong said, as he poured the judge and himself a cup of tea. ‘My only difficulty was to keep the clerks with their noses to the grindstone. Today’s festive spirit had got hold of them!’

  Hoong sat down and sipped his tea, carefully holding up his ragged grey moustache with his left thumb.

  ‘Well, the Feast of Lanterns is on,’ the judge said, putting the white rose back on the table.’ As long as no urgent cases are reported, we can afford to be a little less strict for once.’

  Sergeant Hoong nodded. ‘The warden of the north quarter came to the chancery just before noon and reported an accident, sir. An old beggar fell into a deep drain, in a back street not far from Master Ling’s residence. His head hit a sharp stone at the bottom, and he died. Our coroner performed the autopsy and signed the certificate of accidental death. The poor wretch was clad only in a tattered gown, he hadn’t even a cap on his head, and his greying hair was hanging loose. He was a cripple. He must have stumbled into the drain going out at dawn for his morning rounds. Sheng Pa, the head of the beggars, couldn’t identify him. Poor fellow must have come to the city from up-country expecting good earnings here during the feast. If nobody comes to claim the corpse, we’ll have it burned tomorrow.’

  Judge Dee looked round at his eldest son, who was moving an armchair among the pillars that lined the open front of the hall. The judge snapped: ‘Stop fiddling around with that chair, and do as I told you! All three of you!’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ the three boys shouted in chorus.

  While they were rushing away, Judge Dee said to Hoong: ‘Tell the warden to have the drain covered up prop
erly, and give him a good talking to! Those fellows are supposed to see to it that the streets in their quarter are kept in good repair. By the way, we expect you to join our small family dinner tonight, Hoong!’

  The old man bowed with a gratified smile.

  ‘I’ll go now to the chancery and lock up, sir! I’ll present myself at Your Honour’s residence again in half an hour.’

  After the sergeant had left, Judge Dee reflected that he ought to go too and change from his ceremonial robe of stiff green brocade into a comfortable house-gown. But he felt loath to leave the quiet atmosphere of the now empty hall, and thought he might as well have one more cup of tea. In the park outside it had grown quiet too; people had gone home for the evening rice. Later they would swarm out into the street again, to admire the display of lanterns and have drinking bouts in the roadside wine-houses. Putting his cup down, Judge Dee reflected that perhaps he shouldn’t have given Ma Joong and his two other lieutenants the night off, for later in the evening there might be brawls in the brothel district. He must remember to tell the headman of the constables to double the night watch.

  He stretched his hand out again for his teacup. Suddenly he checked himself. He stared fixedly at the shadows at the back of the hall. A tall old man had come in. He seemed to be clad in a tattered robe, his head with the long flowing hair was bare. Silently he limped across the hall, supporting himself on a crooked staff. He didn’t seem to notice the judge, but went straight past with bent head.

  Judge Dee was going to shout and ask what he meant by coming in unannounced, but the words were never spoken. The judge froze in sudden horror. The old man seemed to flit right through the large cupboard, then stepped down noiselessly into the garden.

  The judge jumped up and ran to the garden steps. ‘Come back, you!’ he shouted angrily.

  There was no answer.

  Judge Dee stepped down into the moonlit garden. Nobody was there. He quickly searched the low shrubbery along the wall, but found nothing. And the small garden gate to the park outside was securely locked and barred as usual.

  The judge remained standing there. Shivering involuntarily, he pulled his robe closer to his body. He had seen the ghost of the dead beggar.

  After a while he took hold of himself. He turned round abruptly, went back up to the hall and entered the dim corridor leading to the front of his private residence. He returned absentmindedly the respectful greeting of his doorman, who was lighting two brightly coloured lanterns at the gate, then crossed the central courtyard of the tribunal compound and walked straight to the chancery.

  The clerks had gone home already; only Sergeant Hoong was there, sorting out a pile of papers on his desk by the light of a single candle. He looked up astonished as he saw the judge come in.

  ‘I thought that I might as well have a look at that dead beggar after all,’ Judge Dee said casually.

  Hoong quickly lit a new candle. He led the judge through the dark, deserted corridors to the jail at the back of the courtroom. In the side hall a thin form was lying on a deal table, covered by a reed mat.

  Judge Dee took the candle from Hoong, and motioned him to remove the mat. Raising the candle, the judge stared at the lifeless, haggard face. It was deeply lined, and the cheeks were hollow, but it lacked the coarse features one would expect in a beggar. He seemed about fifty; his long, tousled hair was streaked with grey. The thin lips under the short moustache were distorted in a repulsive death grimace. He wore no beard.

  The judge pulled open the lower part of the tattered, patched gown. Pointing at the misshapen left leg, he remarked, ‘He must have broken his knee once, and it was badly set. He must have walked with a pronounced limp.’

  Sergeant Hoong picked up a long crooked staff standing in the corner and said, ‘Since he was quite tall, he supported himself on this crutch. It was found by his side, at the bottom of the drain.’

  Judge Dee nodded. He tried to raise the left arm of the corpse, but it was quite stiff. Stooping, he scrutinized the hand, then righting himself, he said, ‘Look at this, Hoong! These soft hands without any callouses, the long, well-tended fingernails! Turn the body over!’

  When the sergeant had rolled the stiff corpse over on its face Judge Dee studied the gaping wound at the back of the skull. After a while he handed the candle to Hoong, and taking a paper handkerchief from his sleeve, he used it to carefully brush aside the matted grey hair, which was clotted with dried blood. He then examined the handkerchief under the candle. Showing it to Hoong, he said curtly: ‘Do you see this fine sand and white grit? You wouldn’t expect to find that at the bottom of a drain, would you?’

  Sergeant Hoong shook his head perplexedly. He replied slowly, ‘No, sir. Slime and mud rather, I’d say.’

  Judge Dee walked over to the other end of the table and looked at the bare feet. They were white, and the soles were soft. Turning to the sergeant, he said gravely, ‘I fear that our coroner’s thoughts were on tonight’s feast rather than on his duties when he performed the post-mortem. This man wasn’t a beggar, and he didn’t fall accidentally into the drain. He was thrown into it when he was dead already. By the person who murdered him.’

  Sergeant Hoong nodded, ruefully pulling at his short grey beard. ‘Yes, the murderer must have stripped him, and put him in that beggar’s gown. It should have struck me at once that the man was naked under that tattered robe. Even a poor beggar would have been wearing something underneath; the evenings are still rather chilly.’ Looking again at the gaping wound, he asked: ‘Do you think the head was bashed in with a heavy club, sir?’

  RAISING THE CANDLE, THE JUDGE STARED AT THE LIFELESS, HAGGARD FACE

  ‘Perhaps,’ Judge Dee replied. He smoothed down his long, black beard. ‘Has any person been reported missing recently?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour! Guildmaster Ling sent a note yesterday stating that Mr Wang, the private tutor of his children, had failed to come back from his weekly holiday two days ago.’

  ‘Strange that Ling didn’t mention that when he came to visit me just now!’ Judge Dee muttered. Tell the headman to have my palankeen ready! And let my house steward inform my First Lady not to wait for me with dinner!’

  After Hoong had left, the judge remained standing there, looking down at the dead man whose ghost he had seen passing through the hall.

  The old guildmaster came rushing out into his front courtyard when the bearers deposited Judge Dee’s large official palankeen. While assisting the judge to descend, Ling inquired boisterously, ‘Well, well, to what fortunate occurrence am I indebted for this unexpected honour?’

  Evidently Ling had just left a festive family dinner, for he reeked of wine and his words were slightly slurred.

  ‘Hardly fortunate, I fear,’ Judge Dee remarked, as Ling led him and Sergeant Hoong to the reception hall. ‘Could you give me a description of your house tutor, the one who has disappeared?’

  ‘Heavens, I do hope the fellow didn’t get himself into trouble! Well, he wasn’t anything special to look at. A tall thin man, with a short moustache, no beard. Walked with a limp, left leg was badly deformed.’

  ‘He has met with a fatal accident,’ Judge Dee said evenly.

  Ling gave him a quick look, then motioned his guest to sit in the place of honour at the central table under the huge lantern of coloured silk hung there for the feast. He himself sat down opposite the judge. Hoong remained standing behind his master’s chair. While the steward was pouring the tea, Guildmaster Ling said slowly, ‘So that’s why Wang didn’t turn up two days ago, after his weekly day off!’ The sudden news seemed to have sobered him up considerably.

  ‘Where did he go to?’ Judge Dee asked.

  ‘Heaven knows! I am not a man who pries into the private affairs of his household staff. Wang had every Thursday off; he would leave here Wednesday night before dinner, and return Thursday evening, also at dinner time. That’s all I know, and all I need to know, if I may say so, sir!’

  ‘How long had he been with you?’<
br />
  ‘About one year. Came from the capital with an introduction from a well-known goldsmith there. Since I needed a tutor to teach my grandsons, I engaged him. Found him a quiet, decent fellow. Quite competent too.’

  ‘Do you know why he chose to leave the capital and seek employment here in Poo-yang? Did he have any family here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ling replied crossly. ‘It was not my habit to discuss with him anything except the progress of my grandchildren.’

  ‘Call your house steward!’

  The guildmaster turned round in his chair and beckoned the steward who was hovering about in the back of the spacious hall.

  When he had come up to the table and made his obeisance, Judge Dee said to him, ‘Mr Wang has met with an accident and the tribunal must inform the next of kin. You know the address of his relatives here, I suppose?’

  The steward cast an uneasy glance at his master. He stammered, ‘He … as far as I know Mr Wang didn’t have any relatives living here in Poo-yang, Your Honour.’

  ‘Where did he go then for his weekly holidays?’

  ‘He never told me, sir. I suppose he went to see a friend or something.’ Seeing Judge Dee’s sceptical expression, he quickly went on, ‘Mr Wang was a taciturn man, Your Honour, and he always evaded questions about his private affairs. He liked to be alone. He spent his spare hours in the small room he has in the back yard of this residence. His only recreation was brief walks in our garden.’

  ‘Didn’t he receive or send any letters?’

  ‘Not that I know of, sir.’ The steward hesitated a moment. ‘From some chance remarks of his about his former life in the capital I gathered that his wife had left him. It seemed that she was of a very jealous disposition.’ He gave his employer an anxious glance. As he saw that Ling was staring ahead and didn’t seem to be listening, he went on with more self-assurance: ‘Mr Wang had no private means at all, sir, and he was very parsimonious. He hardly spent one cent of his salary, never even took a sedan chair when he went out on his day off. But he must have been a wealthy man once, I could tell that from some small mannerisms of his. I think that he was even an official once, for sometimes when caught off guard he would address me in rather an authoritative tone. I understand he lost everything, his money and his official position. Didn’t seem to mind, though. Once he said to me: “Money is of no use if you don’t enjoy life spending it; and when your money is spent, official life has lost its glamour.” Rather a frivolous remark coming from such a learned gentleman, I thought, sir-if I may make so bold, sir.’